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Merry-Go-Roundelays 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2011 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/merrygoroundelayOOanth 



Merry-Go-Roundelays 



By 

Edward Anthony 



'And the feather pate of folly 
Bears the falling sky." 

A. E. Housman 




New York 

The Century Co, 

1921 



TiT-)[[iTriiifni^i -~T-^Ji 






^^ ^^ 



\l 



Copyright, 1 921, by 
The Century Co. 



SEP 22 (92J 

r/. ^'^ 

riA622892 



A 



ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

For permission to reprint most of the 
poems contained in this volume, the 
author is indebted to the editors of 

Harper s Magazine, Life, Judge, The 
New York Herald, The New York 
Evening Post and The New York 
Tribune. 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

A Hardware Romance 4 

Cigar Bandits 8 

An Overworked Understudy's Tribute to July 10 

The Movie-Haters 11 

Remonstration 12 

At the Height of a Certain Craze 14 

The Advertisers' Mother Goose 15 

Triolet 17 

The Gay Young Shavers 18 

Concerning Office Boys 20 

Ballade of Indigestion 22 

Speculation 24 

Concerning a Maiden 26 

Zoological Doings 27 

Hungarian Rhapsody 30 

Concerning Mr. William Binks 32 

The Old-Fashioned Ball Park 34 

World Series Yarn 33* 

Joyous Piping 36 

The Contents of My Lady's Handbag 38 

Chicken Yarn 39 

To a Chicago Friend 41 

Toy Music 43 

The Golden Age 45 

vii 



iSBI 



Contents 



PAGE 



The Modern Poet to His Love 47 

Rondode to May . ., 48 

Remodel That Suit ! 49 

Ambition 51 

The Subway : Land of Democracy . 52 

Subway Yarn 53 

Dear Mr. Disher 54 

March Song 56 

Ballade of Potential Poems j'y 

Very Moving Pictures ^g 

"Begin the Day with a Smile" 62 

The Ineluctable Lure 64 

Any Lover to His Lass 65 

The New Luxury 66 

A Drug-Store Romance 69 

Obregon Opera 74 

"A Many Years Ago" 77 

Paradoxygen 78 

Duel Personalities 80 

Within the Law 83 

The Mirage of the Purchase Price 84 

A Pipe for Milady 86 

The Sour Cynic to His Love 88 

"Parsifal" 89 

Vital Statistics 90 

Advice to the Wicked 92 

Song 93 

Bacchanal 94 

viii 



Contents 



PAGE 



Criticism 96 

Rondeau for Arguers 97 

Nursery Rhyme 98 

The Unsuccessful Trout- Angler 100 

The Indomitable Bard 101 

Ballade of an Ancient Bromide 102 

A Recruiting Story 104 

How It Happens 105 

Barrack Ditty 107 

Jeannette Malone and Private Green 108 

Educating Royalty 109 

Song of the Wide Open Places 112 

The Bard Writes a Practical Rondeau After Leaving 

the Army 114 

Ballade of a Sorrc^vful Singer 115 

Beaten at His Own Game 117 

The Story of Danny O'Doone 119 

New Cure ! 1 24 

A New Year Card 126 

TOMEVILLE ANTHOLOGY 

Publisher's Ante-Room 129 

The Publisher 130 

The Author (1) 131 

The Author (2) 132 

The Bewildered Manuscript Reader 134 

Orlando Sconce, the Child Author 135 

To an Editor 136 

ix 



Contents 



PAGE 



True Memoirs 137 

The Poet Aroused 138 

A Contest 139 

The Lie Is Passed , 140 

Epitaph for a Deserving Lady 141 

SONNETS OF A BOOK REVIEWER 

I "Humorous Essays by Leander Scott" 142 

II "Come for a Walk Down Melancholy Lane" . . 143 

III "Anthology of Modern Verse" 144 

IV "Tell Me, O Traveler" 145 

V "How to Develop Personality" 146 

VI "Suggestive Sexy Stuif" 147 

VII "Another Small-Town Novel" 148 

VIII "A New Detective Story" 149 

IX "I Wonder What 111 Draw To-day" 150 

Atonement 151 



MERRY-GO-ROUNDELAYS 



.ji 



Y WORK on a merry-go-round^ 
Contributing sound 
To the jolly hand. 
I play on a battered lyre. 
Minus a wire^ 

At your command. 

There' s a horse (and he doesn^t need hay)- 
A brown or a grey. 

For each of us. 
Though I ride him poorly, mine 
Is a nag divine 

Old Pegasus! 



A HARDWARE ROMANCE 

T UELLA Loranna O'Shaughnessy Firth 
'■--' Is a clerk in a hardware store, 
Where she sells pots and dishes and bowls for gold- 
fishes, 
And dozens of articles more, 

Like mouse-traps and razors and skillets and bolts, 

Shovels and wrenches and forks, 
Harrows and hillers, potato-bug killers, 

Pump-handles and beer-bottle corks. 

(The enumeration of which you m_ay think 

Decidedly needless and queer, 
But I don't agree, for it seems to me 

That a poem needs Atmosphere.) 

Ricardo Persimmons O'Callaghan Wright 

Is the utterly sprucest of males. 
He enters the place for to purchase a case 

Of unbendable hand-made nails. 



WK 



'A Hardware Romance 



(Either that or a ball of unshrinkable twine, 

Or a saw or a barrel of pitch, — 
Or was it an axe or a package of tacks ? 

I've completely forgotten which.) 

Be that as it may, he enters the store, 

(Of that I am perfectly sure) 
And his heart is gone when he gazes upon 

That sweetest of maids, the demure 

Luella Loranna O'Shaughnessy Firth, 
The most beautiful hardware clerk 

He ever has met, an engaging brunette 
With a smile (or is it a smirk*?) 

That has the effect, as I've hinted before, 

Of setting Ricardo awhirl, 
(As sometimes occurs when a maiden purrs) 

And soon he is telling the girl 

Of his prospects in Life and his Favorite Book, 
And his Love for Beautiful Things, 

While Luella smiles and the time beguiles 
With dreaming of solitaire rings. 

Orlando Themistocles Perkins O'Day 
Is the boss of the hardware store; 

5 



A' Hardware Romance 



These billings and cooings and general doings 
Must vex the old gentleman, for 

He hollers — or, rather, he shouts in a huff, 

("Hollers" is vulgar, I think), 
''Luella, stop shirking, it's time you were working, 

Ouit flirting with that there gink!" 

"Have you anything nice in a hammer, miss*?" 
Says Ricardo with wonderful guile; 

And the grumpy old boss is no longer cross. 
In fact, he commences to smile. 

Having purchased the hammer, Ricardo resumes 

His wooing of lovely Luella. 
He stays there for hours; the boss again glowers 

And curtly announces, "Young fella, 

"This isn't a lounging-room, kindly vamoose I" 

Serenely Ricardo then 
Says, "Lady, I wish a nice chafing-dish," 

And the owner is smiling again ! 

And again Ricardo is courting the maid. 

And whenever the boss complains 
He purchases something (however a bum thing) 

And pretty soon nothing remains. 

6 



A Hardware Romance 



In the store that Ricardo does not own, 
And he turns to the boss and declares, 

"I have bought you out! Now vanish, old lout!" 
The proprietor, saying his pray'rs, 

Makes a grab for his hat and in terror departs. 

The lovers emit a ''Hooray!" 
And kiss once or twice, or it may have been thrice, 

And that is the end of my lay! 




CIGAR BANDITS 

The Belgian Government has presented to the League 
of Nations a hill for cigars amounting to 80^000 francs. 
The hill says: ''These cigars were smoked or carried off by 
members of the various delegations at the Spa Conferences^ 
— News Item, 



T^HE delegate from Argentine, 
* The one from Transylvania, 
The gen°tle-man from Hindustan, 
The member from Roumania; 



The representative from Spain, 

The deputy Vesuvian, 
The guy who hails from New South Wales, 

The diplomat Peruvian; 

8 



Cigar Bandits 

The emissary Portuguese, 

The personage Sicilian, 
The delegate from Congo State, 

The dignitary Chilean — ■ 

They puffed a lot of fine cigars, 

Did these and other folks, 
And Belgium read the bill and said, 

(No kidding) "Holy smokes ! 

"I guess they think we're millionaires. 
They went and smoked our best 

And when they left, in manner deft. 
They went and swiped the rest! 

"We'd gladly buy the world's cigars 

If we but had the metal. 
But we are broke and other folk 

That bill will have to settle." 

I'm sorry for the Belgians, but 

I think that indignation 
Will get 'em naught, I think they ought 

To try cigarbitration ! 



/ 



AN OVERWORKED UNDERSTUDY'S 
TRIBUTE TO JULY 

I\ A ONTH of July, I pine for thee 

^ ' -^ As for no other month I pine. 

The boundless joy thou meanst to me 

Thou never, never canst divine. 

In fervent homage do I bow 

To thee and for thy blessing give 

A thankful prayer; for not till thou 
Comest do I begin to live. 

'Tis not the glory of thy days, 

(Though glorious, indeed, they are.) 

That bringeth forth this song of praise, 
'Tis something that to me is far 

More consequential; thy debut 
Each summer is the trumpet-call 

That tells me I don't have to do 

Friend Sister's lessons till next fall. 



10 



THE MOVIE-HATERS 

OUPERIOR beings, how they sneer 
^ When movies are the theme. 
Mention Miss Pickford and they jeer, 
There's not a star they deem 

Worthy of praise, or photoplay 
At which they do not balk. 

How do the critters get that way? 
I'm weary of their talk. 

O Movies ! I am different, I 
Am mindful that you bring 

Real blessings; till the day I die 
Your praises I shall sing. 

You keep my family out at night 
Where they can't bother me 

When that I sit me down to write 
My deathless poetry. 



11 




REMONSTRATION 

Looking glasses removed from elevators in Bank of Com- 
merce Building because males block doors to admire them- 
selves.— N, Y. Sun, 



T NFAMOUS libel ! I protest ! 
^ Who says that man is vain? 
I'll slay the author of that jest! 

The fellow is insane ! — 
Attributing to man, who's shy, 

Conceit and self-devotion, 
Because he stops to fix his tie. 

Well, what a silly notion I 

Why, I myself — and I'm a guy 
Who's modest as can be — 

12 



Remonstration 

Whene'er a gum-machine is nigh, 

Gaze in the glass to see 
Whether I'm tidy; business men 

Have got to, or they'll rue it. 
It isn't quite the same as when 

Those fussy women do it! 

A story like the one above 

Can do a lot of harm 
By spreading false impressions of 

Us men, whose greatest charm 
Is modesty. It isn't fair 

That man should thus be treated. 
Why, soon some folks will think that there 

Are men who are conceited ! 



13 



AT THE HEIGHT OF A CERTAIN CRAZE 

II OUDINI can wriggle his way out of chains, 

'■■ ^ He laughs at a strait jacket, too. 

He can slip out of handcuffs without any pains, 

There isn't a thing he can't do ^ 

In this line, but I'm betting a bottle of grape, 

Or a hat, or a couple of shirts. 
That Mr. Houdini can never escape 

From one of those funny tight skirts! 



H 



THE ADVERTISERS' MOTHER GOOSE 

THERE was a man in our town (20 minutes 
from Broadway; up-to-date schools, low 
taxes, etc.) and he, having attended Forest's Busi- 
ness College, was wondrous wise. 
He jumped into a bramble bush and scratched out, 
both his Perfection Brand Glass Eyes. 



SIMPLE SIMON met a pieman 
Going to The Apollo Movie Palace ("Fate's 
Doormat" now showing). 
Said Simple Simon to the pieman, 
"Let me have one of your FEATHER KRUST 
lemon meringues." 



15 



The Advertisers' Mother Goose 



T ITTLE Bo Peep has lost her sheep, 

■^ And doesn't know where to find them. 

But she should worry ! her property will be returned 

to her 
In tomorrow morning's mail if she telephones 
THE INFALLIBLE DETECTIVE AGENCY, 
Murray Hill 89,000, 
Before six o'clock tonight. 



16 



TRIOLET 

NIBBLE, when the days are hot, 
Triolettuce salad. 
Something light that hits the spot 
Nibble, when the days are hot, 
Sitting in a shady grot 

Carolling a ballad. 
Nibble, when the days are hot, 
Triolettuce salad! 



17 




THE GAY YOUNG SHAVERS 

Students at barbers^ school have regular college yells. 
News Item, 

I STEPPED into a barber shop 
* To have my locks removed, 
An act of mine which I opine 

The barbers all approved, 
For as I sat me in the chair 
This joyous chorus rent the air: 



Sharpest razors! finest lather! 
Here the better people gather! 
There'' s no luaiting! Rah! rah! rah! 
Twenty barbers! Sis! boom! a-ah! 
18 



The Gay Young Shavers 

In silence did the barber work, 

Nary a word said he, 
Until in joy I thought, "Oh boy! 

I'm dreaming! This can't be! 
He doesn't even say. Tine weather !' " 
And then ten barbers yelled together: 

Pleasant day! The air is bracing! 
No more rainy days we're facing! 
Makes you cheerful^ don^t it, hey? 
Lovely weather! Ray! ray! ray! 

At last the barber's work was done 

And I stepped off the chair 
And paid my check and said, "By heck. 

The man who cuts my hair 
Deserves a tip; here, have a dime," 
And here is what I heard this time: 

Piker! piker! stingy miser! 
You're no kid! Why ain^t you wiser? 
Don't you know a dime's no tip? 
Tightwad! tightwad! hip! hip! hip! 



19 



CONCERNING OFFICE BOYS 

T F you would win your office boy, 

* Make it your business to deco 

The lad into believing that 

The only thoughts beneath your hat 

Are thoughts of baseball and of scrapping. 

Tell him the way The Babe's been slapping 

The pill has filled your life with pleasure, 

And praise Jack Dempsey, for good measure. 

Then, for additional effect, 

A monument to Cobb erect ; 

And gravely vow ('twill have no slight weight) 

That Leonard is no piker lightweight. 

You might toss in the observation 

That this is the most athletic nation, 

As proven by the Belgian games. 

(Mention Foss, Ryan and other names.) 

These thoughts and others just as sage 

Will prove you read the sporting page, 

And he'll be glad to work for you 

Until his place in heaven is due. 



20 



Concerning Ojfice Boys^ 

That's what I thought until one day 

I heard my office urchin say 

To Simpson's boy, his favorite crony, 

"I like my boss, he's all right, on'y 

He don't know nothin' but sportin' stuff, 

I'm sick of hearin' that there guff. 

I'm gonna chuck him soon's I can 

And look for work with some smart man." 



21 



-J^i 



BALLADE OF INDIGESTION 

T WHO have specialized in spuds and steak, 
■■■ By way of victualage, since three or four, 
Gasp when I see a lovely lady take 
Her lunch in some apothecary store, 
And wonder, and shall wonder evermore, 
What there can be (O mystery!) to tickle 
Her palate in these items maids adore: 
A soda and a cruller and a pickle. 

When Henrietta, (what a bride she'd make!) 
The young enchantress who resides next door. 
Complains of — well, a little stomach ache 
All solemnly the knowledge I deplore. 
And tell her how the maids in days of yore 
Unto their constitutions were less fickle. 
Eschewing chow that evil record bore. 
Like soda and a cruller and a pickle. 

O heed my counsel for your family's sake ! 
Eat if you must, green apples to the core. 
Consume a parrot or a pickled hake, 

22 



Ballade of Indigestion 

Devour leaden biscuit by the score, 

Aye, every one of Nature's rulings floor, 

Let moonshine whisky down your thorax trickle, 

Do anything you please, so you ignore 

A soda and a cruller and a pickle. 

L'ENVOI: 

Prince, cast me on your darksome isle ashore, 
Life on this planet isn't worth a nickel. 
For I have downed — and, oh, my days are o'er ! — 
A soda and a cruller and a pickle ! 



23 



BBBlBKaHKiai^itti^^JSBSHi^ 







SPECULATION 

Train travelers can spend their time interestingly by 
trying to figure out the occupations of their fellow travelers. 
— News Story. 

nPHE gentleman beaming and fat, 
■■' With the cane and the silken cravat, 
And the spats and the ten-dollar hat. 
Is a banker, I'll bet. 



The girl with the riotous socks 
(Vermilion, with lavender clocks) 
Is an actress, — she plays in the stocks — 
•On that I am set. 

The person away in the rear. 

With the very much amplified ear, 

24 



Speculation 

And the optic all puffy and queer, 
Is a boxer, I'd say. 

The lad who is reading in bliss 
That copy of "All for a Kiss," 
Is a messenger boy, or I miss. 
There's no doubting it, nay. 

The chap with the faraway stare. 
Who never stops smoothing his hair, 
Who's carrying flowers, I dare 
Say, is somebody's beau. 

The fellow whose shoes need a shine. 
Whose apparel is seedy; in fine. 
Whose appearance is something like mine. 
Is a poet I know! 



25 



CONCERNING A MAIDEN 

'T'HOUGH a poet untalented I 
■■' And pallid the lyrics I write, 
I am going (rash fellow I) to try 
A poem to Sue to indite. 

(If you doubt I am lacking in skill, 
The stanza above re-peruse, 
And you'll note — all observant folk will — 
The needless profusion of "to's".) 

Need I say, as is frequently done, 

That her eyes are Like Stars — ^need I tell 

That her hair's like the gold of the sun? 
On the curve of her mouth need I dwell? 

Need I say, to be brief, that the girl 
Is a beauty sans blemish or taint? 

A — to coin an expression — a pearl? 
No, I needn't. The reason : she ain't. 



26 



ZOOLOGICAL DOINGS 

Elephants, oxen and other animals dream, asserts natural- 
ist. — News Item, 

Chorus of Elephants Rocking Their Children 

to Sleep: 

OLEEP, little elephants, sleep, 
^ Roll over and close your eyes, 
For the pachyderms who keep 

Late hours, aweary rise. 
Dream, little elephants, dream, 

As healthy elephants should. 
Of the days to be when you'll fly with me 

To our home in the Indian wood ! 

Chorus of Baby Elephants : 

First tell us a Bedtime Story, 

As is the fashion these days, 
With a moral or two, as humans do, 

Showing that honesty pays. 
Say, the story of Robert Rabbit 

Who stole a carrot and learned 

27 



JH Mi l llTMl M HlH I IIII'^'T nt n ini 



Zoological Doings 

That his ill-gotten gain brought 
nothing but pain 
For everybody concerned. 

Mrs. Ella Phant Undertakes to Tell Them a Story: 

All right, ril spin you a yarn, but a better one than 

that — 
The story of Ivory Ike, who was slain by a Maltese 

cat. 
Ivory Ike was a bad one, an elephant sour and cross, 
There wasn't an animal living he didn't try to boss. 
One day he met Maltese Mary, the nerviest cat I've 

known. 
She was perched on top of a mango, chewing a 

turkey bone. 
"Throw me that bone," Ike hollers. "You make 

me laugh," says she. 
Which gets that elephant's goat, and he scrambles up 

that tree 

(Enter Keeper) The Keeper: 

Enough of this prattle ! 
Climb into your beds 
Or I promise to rattle 

This stick on your heads ! 
28 



Zoological Doings 

(He extinguishes the lights) 

And they went to sleep that instant and dreamt of 

wonderful things, 
Of a glorious elephant heaven where the pachyderms 

have wings, 
Where there are no sign-boards reading, "DON'T 

FEED THE EL-E-PHANTS," 
And an animal can gobble whatever fortune grants, 
Where there are no chains on the feet and a beast 

can go for a walk. 
And there are no keepers to growl when a fellow 

wants to talk, 
Where there's heaps and heaps of peanuts and "eat 

your fill" is the code. 
And an elephant, like our poets, can take to The 

Open Road ! 



29 




HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY 

Hungary wants king. None but monarch can rule coun- 
try, is belief of people. Worship of pomp still strong, — 
News Item. 

REPUBLICS aren't bad at all, we thought of 
starting one, 
But having a democracy is not a bit of fun. 
It isn't colorful enough, we're very much afraid; 
We want some dignitaries royal in purple robes 

arrayed. 
We want a boss who wears a crown and sits upon a 

throne, 
In other words, a government that has a little tone. 

None hut a king can rule us. 
For a sovereign we beg 
30 



Hungarian Rhapsody 

He needn't he much else if lie 
Has got a decent leg. 
For monarchs wear knee breeches and their limbs 

must be correct^ 
Not but a man with shapely ones we're going to 

select! 

We're reasonable people, we do not expect too much, 
We do not ask a chief who knows astronomy and 

such, 
Political economy, biology and Greek. 
A guy who looks like something is the personage we 

seek — 
A feller who can fence and dance and play upon the 

lute. 
And cut a dashing figure in a pretty velvet suit. 

A man of regal bearing 

Is the person we'll endorse^ 
Whose blood is blue and also who 
Looks handsome on a horse. 
A ruler whose appearance isn't good upon a steed 
Would never suit our citizens and fill our crying 
need I 



31 



CONCERNING MR. WILLIAM BINKS 

V\7HENEVER Mr. William Binks 
' ^ Would quarrel with his wife 
He'd grab his hat and leave her flat 

And run for all his life 
Until he came to Mike's cafe 

Where he would sit and brood, 
And drinking late, he reached the state 

That is commonly known as stewed. 

Then prohibition came along 

And wrinkled the nation's brow, 

And soon (it was awful I) all booze was 
unlawful, 
All liquor was seized, so that now 

Whenever Mr. William Binks 

Quarreleth with his wife 
He grabs his hat and leaves her fiat 

And runs for all his life 



32 



Concerning Mr, William Binks 

Until he comes to Mike's cafe 
Where he's wont to sit and brood, 

And drink till late till he reaches the state 
That is commonly known as stewed. 



33 



THE OLD-FASHIONED BALL PARK 

/^H, how I mourn for the vanished days 
^^ Of the Yankee baseball park, 
Where I used to sing Jack Kleinow's praise 
And in wonderment remark 

The doings of Elberfeld at short 

And of Chesbro on the mound. 
Ah ! those, my friends, were the days of sport, 

The untrammeled bliss I found 

At the old Yank field I cannot find 

At the Polo Grounds at all; 
And I say this not as a rap unkind 

At the present-day brand of ball, 

Which excels the old. And though this I yield 

I stick to my preference 
For the good old Yanks of the old Yank field 

Where a feller could hop the fence! 



34 



WORLD SERIES YARN 

OAYS I to a pal, "Are you gonna take in 
^ The Big Series^" He putteth his hand 
In his pocket and sighs, and there's tears in his eyes 
As he says to me, "Here's how I stand: 

"I've a dime to buy peanuts and also a card 
On which to mark down all the plays, 

And all would be nice as could be if the price 
Of admission I only could raise. 

" 'Tis more than a dime that I'll need for a seat 
When them Giants and White Stockings play. 

So I'll spend it on liquor and stand by the ticker 
In Micky McFadden's cafe." 



35 



|\gpi]\pfig(i^g> ^mrmn 




JOYOUS PIPING 

The corn cob pipe is coming back. — News Note. 

r\ LIMITLESS blessing 

^-^ For thousands of folk I 
O bringer of gladness and chaser 
of sadness, 
Wherever men smoke ! 



O item that heartens 

A people forlorn! 
O bliss without measure for 
mortals who treasure 

The pipe made of corn ! 

O rapturous tiding! 
O wonderful news 

36 



Joyous Piping 

That soon, I am betting, will 
have us forgetting 
The passing of booze ! 

Go ring all the church-bells ! 

Sound bugle and horn! 
To-day is the day for to holler 
hooray for 

The pipe made of corn! 

Do everything mirthful 

And giddy and gay, 
Ecstatic, oh-boy-ous, exuberant, 
joyous, 

Your glee to display. 

rd join you myself 

In a minute, dear folk, 
If I had any cause to give vent 

to applause. 
But, alas ! I don't smoke ! 



37 



THE CONTENTS OF MY LADY'S HANDBAG 

A POWDER magazine, a puff, 
-^ *• A handkerchief of lace, 
(A gift from me — it cost enough 
To fix a pennant race) ; 

Some postage stamps all glued together, 

A nickel and a dime, 
A piece of useless ostrich feather. 

Some "fruit" drops (flavor, lime) ; 

A hairpin and a mirror and 

A silver pencil, some 
Vermilion rouge, a rubber band, 

A stick of chewing gum ; 

A shoe horn and some peanut shells, 

A street guide of the city. 
Some smelling salts she never smells 

And a clipping of this ditty ! 



38 




CHICKEN YARN 

Chickens fooled by scientific Long Islander. After dark 
he gets a flashlight, takes it out to the hen-house and flashes 
its rays on the sleeping chickens. They think it is day- 
time, wake up and commence to lay. — News Item, 

I F you would make your chickens work, 
-■' Don't feed 'em patent lotions, 
Or fill their crops with pills and drops; 
Eschew these ancient notions. 

Science with flaming torch in hand 

(Or flashlight, should I say*?) 
Advances now to show you how 

To make the critters lay. 



39 



Chicken Yarn 

Go to the nearest hardware store 

And buy a little flashlight, 
(You'll get one for a buck or more), 

And then proceed to splash light 

At midnight on your leghorns and 
Your Plymouth Rocks and so forth ; 

They'll think it's day and right away 
A hundred eggs will flow forth ! 

(Instead of being serious, 

Were I a wag I'd say 
You flash a light at dead of night, 

And quick's a flash they lay!) 

Oh, thus have many wealthy grown, 
I mean it — cease the laughter. 

You might do worse than heed my verse 
And shrewdly follow after. 



40 



TO A CHICAGO FRIEND 

T 'VE often said, when I have read 
^ About your famous Chi., 
"I'd like to hand that city grand 
My card before I die. 

"Some day I'll crook a mileage book 
And make the joyous trip" — 

(The book alone I'd need. I own 
Pajamas and a grip) — 

"And folks back here for many a year 

Shall gaze at me in awe 
As I narrate the many great 

And wondrous things I saw." 

But now no more do I deplore 
That on your well-known village 

I ne'er have gazed. If it were razed, 
I might go there for pillage. 

But that is all would ever call 
Me Chi ward- — ^here is why: 
41 



To a Chicago Friend 

The other day, to my dismay, 
I happened to espy 

Within your most respected "POST" 

A motion-picture ad. 
About a show that months ago 
I saw right here,''* begad! 



* Bullfrog-on-the-Raritan, N. J. 



42 



TOY MUSIC 

E'S there in the morn and he's there at night, 
Peddling his toy violins, 
A queer little raggedy whiskered wight, 
Emblazoned with safety-pins. 

He fiddles a tune for the passing throng 

And nothing disturbs his poise, 
Not even the silencing of his song 

In the city's commotion and noise. 

Oh, I've watched him play for a decade or more, 
And though you hear never a sound, 

He fiddles away in the rumble and roar. 
Content, though the music be drowned. 

No one can chase him, a license has he. 

And, looking supemally wise. 
He plays whatever the tune may be . . . 

And sometimes a lady buys. 

A toy musician I've also become, 
Tve a little toy lyre with strings, 

43 



mm 



Toy Music 

And the noises I make as I strum and strum 
Are drowned in the rush of things. 

And as with the fiddler, no mortal can drive 

Me away, though my playing be 
A cacophonous kind of music, for I've 

A poetical license, you see. 

So I plink away on my little toy lyre, 

It's wonderful exercise. 
What more can a tupenny singer desire? . . . 

And sometimes a customer buys. 



44 




THE GOLDEN AGE 

Historians will never call this the Golden Age of Litera- 
ture. — College Professor, in magazine article, 

T AM a humble citizen 
^ And hate to disagree 
With obviously learned men, 

And yet it seems to me . 
That college prof, is hardly fair. 

His reasoning is queer, 
For Harold Wright's a millionaire, 

The Golden Age is here I 



Professor, you don't know the facts, 
You ought to read the news, 
45 



The Golden Age 

Instead of dry and dusty tracts 

Devoid of any clues 
To Modern Litrachoor and sich, 

And then you'd know, old dear, 
That one Zane Grey is very rich, 

The Golden Age is here ! 

To contradict a man who knows 

A good deal more than I 
Is insolence that, I suppose, 

Most people will decry. 
Yet ere they lay me 'neath the sod 

I wish to make this clear : 
George Barr McCutcheon has a wad. 

The Golden Age is here I 



46 



THE MODERN POET TO HIS LOVE 

T^HE poems I sent you you coolly rejected, 
-■■ You called 'em poor piping, 
Not knowing that eight of the flaws you detected 

Were errors in typing, 
A science that ever for me has had terrors. 

(O dark circumstance I) 
You oughtn't to let typographical errors 

Bust up a romance. 



47 



RONDODE TO MAY 

OHE makes good fudge. Although I eat 
^ Seldom of anything that's sweet, 

Fudge, when the stuff is made by May 
I munch with pleasure any day, 
The make is one that can't be beat. 

Bonbons (Fm not of the elite) 
With less of pleasure do I greet 

Than May's confection. Pass the tray! 
She makes good fudge ! 

xt s true the maiden has big feet, 

It's true her hair is never neat. 

It's true that rag-time makes her sway, 
It's true that she's a perfect jay, 

But these are trifles. I repeat, 

She makes good fudge ! 



48 




REMODEL THAT SUIT! 

MOTHERS — Have us remodel father s or elder brother's 
out-grown clothing into a modish suit for your younger 
son. — Advertisement in English newspaper. 

/^H, do not throw those pants away ! 

^^ Be thrifty, Mrs. Jones! 

I know they've seen a better day 

And that your husband owns 
Another pair or two but, then, 

Think of your little son. 
He'll have a lovely outfit when 

The renovator's done ! 

Fie on you ! Mrs. Percy Root ! 

Oh, worst of all disgraces ! 
Throwing away that handsome suit 

Because it's worn in places ! 
49 



Remodel That Suit! 



Go see The Salvage Tailors, where 

For seven dollars, silly. 
They'll make you (Guaranteed to Wear) 

A Sunday suit for Willie ! 

Unselfish is this tattered bard 

In helping this campaign, 
For it is going to hit me hard. 

And let me make it plain : 
If folks stop throwing duds away 

And save 'em, understand me. 
When I go begging clothing, they 

Won't have a thing to hand me ! 



50 



AMBITION 

/^H, I am not a selfish guy, 
^-^ Here's all that I desire: 
Some candy-shop ablaze that I 
May call a bonbonfire. 



51 



THE SUBWAY: LAND OF DEMOCRACY 

TJERE maidens democratic let 
*• ■■■ You sit upon their knees, 
And whether rich or poor, you get 
The onion-scented breeze. 

O radicals and such like chaps 
Who preach that ancient stuff — 

"There's no democracy" — perhaps 
You look not deep enough ! 



P 



SUBWAY YARN 

T^HE subway guard announced the street. 
■■■ I did my best to hear him ; 
My failure being quite complete, 
I ventured, coming near him: 

"To foreign languages, good man, 

I offer no objection; 
But being plain American, 

I have a predilection 

"For English, sir; you might do worse 

Than formally adopt it." 
The subway guard began to curse, 

And when at last he'd stopped it, 

Said I, "You show great disrespect, 
That's pretty talk to hand me !" 

Said he, "How strange you should object 
Since you can't understand me !" 



53 




DEAR MR. DISHER 

A party of adventurers, headed by F. F, Rhodes Disher, 
fellow of the Royal Geographical Society, have decided to 
spend the rest of their lives on a tropical island away from 
excessive taxation. They will start for the South Seas in 
a schooner, the Medora. — News Item, 



T^HE humble fedora I wear, 

^ My shoes (I have only one pair), 
The ties that with father I share 

Are taxed (they're luxurious!) 
The taxing of soda abides, 
The taxing of pills and of rides, 
And they're taxing my patience besides, 

So, mister, I'm curious 
To know if there's room on the boat 



54 



Dear Mr. DisJier 

For a sufferer minus a goat. 
Say yes and Til take off my coat 

And scrub all the decks, sir I 
There's no huskier lad in the land, 
There's no vessel I don't understand, 
I'll work for the joy of it and 

I'll be hand}^ in wrecks, sir. 
And, oh, when that island you sight 
And your passengers (bless 'em I) alight, 
You'll need a young man who can fight, 

To keep off the savages. 
And if lions attack, I'll elect 
To see their ambitions are wrecked, 
I'm a marksman and vow to protect 

You from animal ravages. 
I'll cook for the party and sew, 
I'll get up an amateur show, 
I'll work like the devil ! Let's go! 

Let me join your new nation! 
You've a place in the steerage, you say*? 
Do I mind the discomfort? Nay! Nay! 
I'll go get my baggage ! Hooray 

For the end of taxation ! 



55 



MARCH SONG 

HO ! for the winds of the month of March 
That whistle through beam and rafter. 
But a louder ho! I'll emit when they go 
And the breezes of spring follow after. 



56 



BALLADE OF POTENTIAL POEMS 

r CLOSE my desk and leave the town 
* For pleasures of the countryside, 
Where nature wears an emerald gown, 

(A bit of knowledge which I pride 

Myself upon), where gaily glide 
The butterflies o'er roses rare, 

And nature's joyous whims provide 
Potential poems everywhere. 

It's true that poets of renown 

Immortalized before they died 
The items I am setting down. 

But what of that? I'm gratified 

To think that famous men descried 
The beauties that I now declare. 

Like posies that 'neath boulders hide 
Potential poems everywhere. 

No wonder that I cease to frown, — 

A trout stream, look! (I'll have mine fried, 

57 



Ballade of Potential Poems 

With new potatoes for a crown.) 
Regard the cherry tree — a bride 
Decked out in white. Ah ! see, untied, 

The cows, (they must be tame for fair,) 
And hear the birds and their implied, 

Potential poems, everywhere. 

L'ENVOI: 

Fm taking Ethel for a ride. 
Here's stationery and a chair. 

You write 'em, friend, those undenied 
Potential poems everywhere ! 



58 




VERY MOVING PICTURES 

A Denver dispatch quotes a famous detective as saying^ 
"Most of the crimes committed to-day are the work of novices 
and boys who are influenced by melodramatic motion pic- 
tures ^ 

OTILETTO TOMMY, sometimes known as 

^ Nick the Gizzard-slicer, 

Once tried as Dave the Dip and once as Lou the 

Loaded-dicer, 
It's charged you burglarized this man and hit him 

on the head, 
And did a dozen other things," His Honor gravely 

said. 
Attorney for defense arose, a person debonair. 
And offered these remarks the while he stroked the 

prisoner's hair: 

59 



Very Moving Pictures 

''He was the nicest gentleman 

That I had ever seen 
Until the time he saw a crime 

Depicted on the screen. 
A'Stealing's not his business^ sir, 

'Tis just an avocation 
That he acquired when movies fired 

His young imagination!" 

"There's something in your argument; release the 
man, attendant. 

And now we'll hear the Pinto Kid. Well, what's 
your plea, defendant'? 

You're charged with robbing twenty banks and hold- 
ing up a train. 

These wretched improprieties I wish you would 
explain." 

And when the Kid's attorney made the moving plea 
below 

I knew the kindly magistrate would let the prisoner 
go: 

'He learned it in the movies^ sir, 
The chap was minus malice 
60 



Very Moving Pictures 

Till led astray the other day 
In Blooey' s movie palace. 

'Twas poison to his gentle soul. 
Temptation came a-leaping! 

Ah, set him free, poor fellow; see 
How tenderly he's weeping!" 



61 



"BEGIN THE DAY WITH A SMILE" 

JV/lY desk-mate Jones was known to smile 

^ ' ^ From morn till night — that was his style. 

At five he wore the self -same grin 

With which the day he would begin. 

He smiled whatever might betide, 

He even smiled when people died. 

One day I says to Jones, says I, 

*'Jonesey, I'm not a grouchy guy, 

I like to see a fellow smile. 

But you — you do it all the while. 

Doesn't your grinning ever end? 

How can you keep it up, my friend?" 

Says Jonesey then to me, says he, 

"You think that life's all joy for me? 

You think I grin because I'm happy? 

You do? Then guess again, old chappie. 

In magazines I daily read 

How people smile — and then succeed. 

They smile — and that is all there's to it. 

And that's the reason why I do it. 

62 



"Begin the Day with a Smile' 

By grinning ten or twenty days 
I figure that I'll get a raise, 
And if I keep it up, old dear, 
ril own the business in a year!" 



63 



THE INELUCTABLE LURE 

TTHE girl I wed, for aught I care, 
-■■ May have a nose like Punch's. 
She may have artificial hair 
In big offensive bunches. 

No ruby lips may be her boast, 
No eyes that brightly shine. 

She may be paler than a ghost. 
Her voice may be a whine. 

Her teeth may only number three. 

She may be fat or thin, 
But there will simply have to be 

A dimple in her chin! 



64 



ANY LOVER TO HIS LASS 

"\ A /"HY do we osculate'? What is the cause of it? 
^ ' Who started kissing? And what are the laws 
of it? 
What is the meaning when lips come together? 
Is it a sign that there's spring in the weather? 
Is it a habit you learn from your mother? 
Or is it a sign that we love one another? 



6^ 





THE NEW LUXURY 

Alarm clocks included in luxury tax lists. — N. Y. Herald. 

JOANNA, let me warn you that you'll wind up 

^ your career 

As my stenographer unless you come in early, dear. 

I overlook your grammar and the way you punc- 
tuate, 

Though either one would warrant me in giving you 
the gate. 

Come, come, explain your tardiness, — and no pre- 
varication." 

The maiden brushed away a tear and said in 
explanation : 

"My father is a watchman and 
My mother takes in wash. 
66 



The New Luxury 

I spend on gum the little sum 

You call my pay^ begosh! 
Alarum clocks are luxuries 

Which we cannot afford^ 
And so Vm late and beg to state 

Yd like a raise ^ me lordT^ 

The richest person on our block is Jeremiah Brown, 

In fact, Fve heard it whispered he's the richest man 
in town. 

He's bought a big alarum clock on which the tax 
alone 

Is ninety-seven cents, I hear; it gives the family- 
tone. 

They lord it over everyone as though they owned 
the city, 

And caused this bard to grab a pen and write this 
little ditty: 

O^, hear it ring! A-ting-a-ling I 

The Browns* alarum clock! 
A sign of riches countless^ which is 

The envy of the block I 
67 



The New Luocury 

They set it going morn and night 
Their opulence to prove. 

Ah, woe is me I It's plain that we 
Shall have to pack and move! 



68 



A DRUG-STORE ROMANCE 

T SUPPOSE on perusing my title you said, 
* "Romance in a pharmacy *? Tut! 
The prospect is bleak; why, one might as well seek 
For romance in an Eskimo hut." 

Now, if that's what you said, — Fm not saying you 
did— 

But supposing you did, old dear, 
It simply would show that you do not know 

What happened in Sickle's last year. 

And where is this Sickle's^ On State, comer Elm. 

You remember that druggist shop 
With the window display showing bunions at bay. 

And the ice cream announcement on top. 

If you still do not know where the pharmacy is. 

Let me say that the Davidson barn, 

Painted purple and white, is a rod to the right, 

And now I'll proceed with my yarn. 

69 



A Dimg-Store Romance 

One morning Lem Hackel, a clerk in the store, 

Was brushing the counter, I think. 
Or making some pills for to banish some ills, 

Or preparing a strawberry drink. 

When a maiden — her name was Lenora O'Shea — 
Approached and announced, "I desire 

A package or two of that wonderful new 
O'Hillery's Face Beautifier." 

Now, Lem had a dozen assortments in stock — 
Rigardo's and Muller's and Brown's, 

O'Reilly's and Winkle's, Mezetti's and Finkle's, 
McFadden's, De Laney's and Towne's — 

But he had no O'Hillery's (that was the best) 

And fervently Lemuel swore, 
For the chap was afraid if he told her, the maid 

Wouldn't think very well of the store. 

So, inspired, he tells her, '^O'Hillery's'? Sure!" 
And adds (how the fellow was l5ang!) 

"But I'd like to observe, if you won't deem it nerve, 
That I don't think you need beautifying!" 

70 



-^ 



A Drug-Store Romance 

"Now, really!" Lenora exclaims with a smile, 
"You surely can't mean what you say." 

Lies Lemuel, "Ma'am, you're the prettiest lamb 
I've encountered in many a day." 

She throws him a kiss as she bids him farewell 

And leaves with a song in her heart 
To tell father and mother and sister and brother 

Her scorn for cosmetical art. 

A year has elapsed. And Lenora, poor maid. 

Has discovered she isn't so pretty. 
For she comes to the store, as she did once before. 

For O'Hillery's. Gosh, what a pity 

That Lem, who has finally put in a stock 

Of this article, should have forgot 
The occurrence last year! When he says to her 
Here," 

And sells her a box on the spot. 

She cries, "I perceive that last summer you fibbed 

When you said I was fair as a rose 
And didn't require your old beautifier," 

And, lo! she is tweaking his nose. 

71 



A Drug-Store Romance 

Oh, Lemuel's small and Lenora is tall 

And sinewy muscles are hers. 
She boxes his ears till the fellow, in tears. 

Cries, "Mercy!" and then it occurs 

To Lem that a maiden as sturdy as this 
Would make him an excellent spouse. 

He muses, "She'd wash all the clothes and, begosh. 
Do all of the work in the house !" 

So he says to her, "Lady, I've fallen in love 
With those sinewy muscles you own. 

Stop beating my head and let's go and be wed !" 
And into his arms she has flown ! 

" 'In strength there is beauty,' the poet observed," 

Says Lemuel then to his dear, 
"And you're certainly strong, so unless I am wrong, 

As a beauty you haven't a peer." 

And soon they are married and Lemuel still 

With his passion for beauty possessed 
Bestows on his bride, with professional pride, 

A case of O'Hillery's best! 

72 



A Drug-Store Romance 

And I hear, for good measure, he threw in a gross 
Of Rigardo's and Muller's and Brown's, 

O'Reilly's and Winkle's, Mezetti's and Finkle's, 
McFadden's, De Laney's and Towne's ! 



73 




OBREGON OPERA 

Mexican generals lose their jobs. . . . Many discharged. 
. . . Given choice between farm ownership and good jobs 
in factories. — Headline. 



"^ A 7E used to have a general for every dozen men, 
^ ^ Which made our army beautiful, for nat- 
urally when 

You have a gang of generals all standing in a line^ 

And each of 'em is gaily clad and all their buttons 
shine, 

The spectacle delights the eye — and that is why 
we'd hire 'em, 

But generals are luxuries and so we're going to 
fire 'em! 

74 



Obregon Opera 

General Fandango^ 

Take off your pretty pants! 
Here's overalls! Your duty calls 

You to the plow. Advance! 
O General Piazza^ 

Remove that brilliant shirt! 
You'll hardly need it planting seed 

And digging in the dirt! 

A hundred thousand generals a-standing in a row. 
With ribbons on their bosoms, make a fascinating 

show. 
And when they wear their medals, and the same are 

polished bright, 
You'd have to travel many miles to see a finer sight. 
But times have changed and Mexico's to be a thrifty 

nation, 
And so our doughty generals are due for a vacation. 

O General Bandanna, 

The factory whistle blows! 
So hock your dirk and go to work. 

And doff your army clothes. 

15 



Obregon Opera 

O General Siesta^ 

Ere long you^re going to carry 
A dinner pail and earn your kale^ 

Like Tom and Dick and Harry I 



76 



"A MANY YEARS AGO" 

O AID my dad, "Be a lawyer, that's my suggestion, 
^ The qualifications are your'n, 
You've debated with me on every question 
Ever since you were born." 

"He'll do better than that," my mother objected, 

"A banker he's going to be. 
He saves all his pennies, I've lately detected; 

He'll open a bank, I foresee." 

High hopes did they have in those days when their 
sonny 
Showed promise. O how they would gloat I 
They thought he had brains and would make lots of 
money — 
Alas ! the young man is a pote. 



77 



PARADOXYGEN 

{Provoked by G, K. C.'s American Lecture Tour,) 

nPHE atmosphere is decidedly queer, 
"■- It's evident everywhere. 
Fm not feeling well, and the reason : I smell 
Paradoxygen in the air I 

This rarefaction agrees with some, 

But I, who am bourgeois, find 
It hard as the deuce on the lungs — and a truce 

I seek with the Chesterton mind I 

Oh, Gilbert, I know there are many who like 
Your talks on "The Darkness of Light," 

"The Shortness of Length" and "The Weakness of 
Strength," 
And the one on "The Lowness of Height." 

They tell me you're simply immense, old dear, 
In that speech on "The Upness of Down," 

And I also have read that you're knocking 'em dead 
In the one on "The Blueness of Brown." 

78 



Paradoccygen 

My neighbor keeps telling me, "How I adore 

His 'Legality of the Illicit,' 
And I've also a liking intense for his striking 

'Obscurity of the Explicit !' " 

Yet I am unmoved. And the reason^ Oh, well, 

The same I intend to expound 
Some evening next week, when I'm going to speak 

On "The Shallowness of the Profound." 



79 




eniBttes 



DUEL PERSONALITIES 



Recently Lord Henry Cavendish-Bentinck challenged Sir 
Hamar Greenwood to mortal combat in the House of Com- 
mons, . . . Within the past few months there have been 
other challenges of a similar nature in England^ but in each 
case it has not been difficult to persuade the disputants not 
to fight a duel, — News Item, 

LORD ALEXANDER RUPERT ROCHE was 
taking lunch one day 
With his distinguished fellow-peer, the Earl of 

Halloway. 
Said Alexander Rupert Roche, "I think the pheas- 
ant's great." 
Said Halloway, "Not pheasant, boob. That's quail 

upon your plate." 
Said Roche, "I say it's pheasant, sir! How dare 

you contradict me^" 
80 



Duel Personalities 

Said H., "We'll fight it out and see; no man has 
ever licked me!" 

Pistols and coffee at seven! 

There^s going to he a duel! 
Someone is going to heaven! 

(They say lords do^ as a rule,) 
When a breach cannot he mended 

A peer must have his fling! 
There's honor to he defended! 

And honor is no small thing ! 

Scene: Dueling-ground. The lord and earl and 

followers appear, 
The lord is rather shaky and the earl is acting queer. 
Yet, thaugh they do it timidly, each brandishes a 

gun, 
And it begins to look as though there'll be a lot of 

fun, 
When someone cries, "No Englishman should ever 

slay a brother!" 
Whereat the lord and earl embrace and warble to 

each other: 

''The gentleman is right, 
I like his attitude, 
81 



Duel Personalities 

Ifs incorrect to fight. 
Improper, vulgar, rude. 

We owe it to the nation 
To be more dignified. 

Think of the desolation 
If one of us had diedT 



82 



WITHIN THE LAW 

(After looking into Walker's Rhyming Dictionary) 



I 



'D any day prefer to starve 
Than have to live on quince preserve. 



My righteous anger it provokes 

To see folks read H. B. Wright's books. 

They should not be allowed to vote 
Who waste their time on such darned rot. 

'Most anything I can endure, 
But not the scrambled metaphor. 

I often used to buy a pint 
Of beer my innards to anoint. 

^tr ^c ^}c ^tf ^{f ^{£ ^k ^Ac 

How dare one use such rhymes "? . . . Oh, well, 
Walker says they're allowable ! 



83 



THE MIRAGE OF THE PURCHASE PRICE 

AyU^HEN I was very little I 

^ ' Received each week or so 
A quarter from my dad to buy 
A ticket for a show. 

The quarter bought a gallery seat 

Away up near the beams, 
Whence I would gaze at the elite 

And wrap myself in dreams 

Of days when I, a grown-up lad, 

Should slap a dollar down 
And get the best seat to be had 

In all the merry town. 

After ten years of worldly strife 

I've managed to fulfil 
My dollar dream, but — such is life ! — 

I'm in the gallery still. 



The Mirage of the Purchase Price 

And when I'm able to shell out 

Four dollars for a chair, 
I haven't got a single doubt 

I'll still be 'way up there. 



85 




A PIPE FOR MILADY 

English society women smoke pipes, — News Item. 

COME, Arabella, and fill the bowl I— 
The bowl of my pipe, old dear — 
And puff away the livelong day 
Like the wife of a British peer! 

Oh, do not be an old-fashioned girl, 

Away with that cigarette ! 
A pipe for you ! And you'll smoke it too! 

I'll make you a lady yet! 

That pipe of mine has an odor, dear. 

As doubtless you have found. 
But I'll make you a present of one that 
is pleasant 
When your birthday rolls around. 
86 



A Pipe for Milady 

Do you wish a stem that is straight or 
curved? 

Shall it be a meerschaum, pray*? 
Or do you desire a little French briar, 

Or one that is made of clay? 

Oh, a perfectly stunning tobacco pouch 
You shall knit for yourself, my own, 

With trimmings of blue and of scarlet too 
That I promise will give you tone. 

And we'll go to smokers, my pretty one, 

And fill the air with a haze. 
And puff together in fair and foul weather 

The rest of our mortal days ! 



87 



THE SOUR CYNIC TO HIS LOVE 

A LTHOUGH you're pretty as can be, 
'**' I sing not of your charms, my love; 
Your splendid generosity, 

Sweet fay, is what I warble of. 

Try as I may, I can't compound 

A simple that would express 
Appropriately my profound, 

Immeasurable gratefulness. 

Your kindness tears me all to bits ; 

Accept my hereby given thank. 
Since you deserted me for Fritz 

I'm putting money in the bank. 



88 



"PARSIFAL" 

A T one the curtain rises, 
^**- And then till half past five 
The singers sing, the rafters ring. 
And then you— well, revive. 

Great stuff— but, oh, so endless! — 
Proving, unless I'm wrong. 

The fellow knew his business who 
Observed that art is long. 



89 




VITAL STATISTICS 

Girl vote clerk town terror. Since election she knows 
ages of all women in her neighborhood. — Headline, 

T AM the village ballot-clerk, my name is Tessie 

*- Brown, 

I hardly need remark that Fm the terror of the town. 

I know the age of Adaline, of Sue and Elinor, 

(The latter claims she's twenty-three, I know she's 
thirty- four.) 

And since a girl can do some good with all this 
information, 

I'm starting Brown's Emporium of Age Investiga- 
tion! 

0^, learn your sweetkearfs age^ 
And save yourself some sorrow! 
90 



Vital Statistics 

For all you know your dashing Flo 

Is forty-six to-morrowl 
Oh^ come and sample Brown^s 

Perfection Brand Statistics! 
They're guaranteed ! You do not need 

Those fortune-telling mystics! 

Statistics given while you wait, and prices very fair, 
If you can't call, we send a man to see you anywhere. 
All consultations confidential, she won't know you 

called. 
(I hardly need remark that if she did she'd be 

appalled.) 
'Phone for appointment right away, we've got a 

private wire, 
And make it doubly certain that the maid's your 

heart's desire! 

To'day a gal of fifty 

Resembles twenty-two^ sir. 
Cosmetic art may win your hearty 

Investigate your Sue^ sir! 
She may he sixty-five 

For all her rosy tint age ^ 
So come to-day without delay 

And learn the maiden's vintage! 
91 



ADVICE TO THE WICKED 

OTOP a minute, ribald dancers, 
^ Shimmying to hours late ; 
Harken, all ye wanton prancers, 
Hear this poetizer prate. 

Have you in your mad gyrations 
Thought of all the time ye waste? 

Thought of aught but hesitations, 
Thought of hours you've erased? 

Have you ever, crazy dippers. 
Thought of Hades and the Styx? 

Know ye that for midnight trippers 
Meeds of Higher Kinds are nix? 

Know ye hours spent in wooing 
Terpsy till the night is done 

Might be better spent in doing 
Pomes immortal, like this one? 



92 



SONG 

COR years Fve been trying to get up a scheme 
-*■ For suppressing the hard-lucky wight, — 
The fellow who has a perpetual stream 
Of sorrowful tales to recite. 

And I wish to announce Fve discovered a plan 

That is sure to bring sufferers bliss. 
And the same is quite simple: as soon as your man 
Commences, salute him with this: 

CHORUS: 

If you me your troubles you're gonna hear 

mine, — 

I warn you before you begin. 
You're not the one bird with a crick in the spine, 

Nor the one guy who's pocketbook's thin! 

Your trousers, you tell me, are worn at the knee*? 

Why, look at the patches in mine ! 
And, say, if you tell all your troubles to me 

You can bet that you're gonna hear mine I 

93 




BACCHANAL 

Great deposit of hootchite or hootchspar^ a mineral rock 
containing a large percentage of alcohol, found in Nevada, 
— Mining and Scientific Press. 

T MET a man the other day 

* Licking a piece of rock. 

Said I, "What are you doing, prayl 

You puzzle me, old sock." 
He licked that rock until I thought 

It soon would melted be, 
Then whispered, "Hush! I may be 
caught. 

This rock is boozy, see?" 

And when he'd finished with that stone, 
He took another piece, 
94 



Bacchmial 

And as a puppy licks a bone, 
He licked without surcease, 

And shouted, "Merry days ahead!" 
And handed me a chunk, 

And slapped me on the back and said, 
"Let's you and I get drunk I" 

Upon his back he had a sack 

Of rocks of every sort, 
And some were Scotch and some were 
gin, 

And some were beer and port. 
"Hurray!" he cried, "for nature's gift! 

While other mortals weep 
Who have no means of getting spiffed, 

We'll rock ourselves asleep!" 



95 



CRITICISM 

T QUITE agree with you," says Jinks, 
* "That Gilbert's funny as can be. 
But how can anyone who thinks 
Waste time on such buffoonery^" 

"O.Henry? Yes. I like him well, 
His stories never want for tang; 

But nearly anyone will tell 

You that he uses too much slang." 

"You're right," he'll say, "his stuff's 
not bad," 
When Old Bill Shakespeare's cause I 
plead ; 
"Although you must admit," he'll add, 
"That parts of him aren't fit to read." 

^^ %t^ xL^ >!/• «1^ >1^ xl» 

^^ *j* *j> *y* ^j^ ^j^ *j» 

Whene'er there's talk of Jinks, and my 

Opinion is solicited, 
I say, "He's quite a decent guy. 

Although there's nothing in his head." 
96 



RONDEAU FOR ARGUERS 

COMEBODY'S wrong. Who can it be'? 

^ The trouble lies with you or me. 
That much I know, and would I knew 
Whether I err or whether you 

When we agree to disagree. 

My arguments you cannot see, 
And I — I shout excitedly, 

"You're wrong — you know it! — through 
and through!" . . . 

Somebody's wrong. 

We argue. Why? Because it's free? 
No. Don't we lose our time when we 

Stand cussing till the air is blue? 

What prompts us then ? Search me ! I do 

Know this: When all is s. and d., 
SOMEBODY'S wrong. 



97 




NURSERY RHYME 

A bath a day keeps the doctor away. — N. Y. Sun. 



AjK OTHER, may I go in the swim^" 
1 V i "You may, my darling daughter; 
Don't stand upon the ocean's brim, 

But plunge into the water." 
"Mother, the water's very chill." 

"Suppose it is, my dearie? 
A bath to-day will save a bill 

From Dr. Hiram Leery!" 

II 

"Mother, may I go in to bathe?" 
"You may, my precious Emma." 
98 



Nursery Rhyme 

"The breakers toss, the sharks are cross, 

Fm in a great dilemma." 
"Be unafraid, my pretty one," 

And in the sea she knocked her! 
"A bath a day will keep away 

That profiteering doctor!" 

Ill 

"Mother, may I go in to wash"?" 

"You may, my sweetest daughter, 
Yes, any time, my darling; Fm 

An advocate of water." 
"Mother, there's lobsters in the sea." 

"Then watch 'em, love, be stealthy," 
And ducked the miss and chuckled, "This 

Is going to keep you healthy!" 



99 



THE UNSUCCESSFUL TROUT-ANGLER 

T 'VE got the kind of bamboo pole 
-^ That anyone would prize, 
And there is not a bloomin' soul 
Who's more, and better, flies. 

I've got an automatic reel 
That — well, it can't be beat; 

A dozen leaders and a creel, 
A line on which I'm sweet; 

I've even boots, a landing-net 
And O. Smith's book of rules, 

Preferring to be deep in debt 
Than minus needed tools. 

Despite which trappings, and some 
more, 

No trout's been in my net — 
Which isn't so surprising, for 

I ain't been fishing yet! 



100 



THE INDOMITABLE BARD 

'T'HE fashioning of verses 
* When the nation is at war 
Is a crime that earns me curses, 

Yet I keep on writing, for 
The people who denounce me as we prime ourselves 

for battle 
Cussed my verses just as roundly ere the drums 
began to rattle. 



101 



BALLADE OF AN ANCIENT BROMIDE 

"When spring and young love meet, then the birds sing." 
-From "The Freelands," by John Galsworthy. 

'HPHE platitudes are not 
"■- All made by Harold Wright, 
Full many the giants plot 

Upon the lofty height 

Where J. G. in his might 
Says birdies sing, "Tweet I tweet!" 

(A pleasant picture, quite) 
When spring and first love meet. 



Nor is the thing a blot 

Upon his 'scutcheon bright, 

He's only saying what 

Most authors, great or slight, 
Say when they must indite 

Some observations sweet 
Anent the moment trite 

When spring and first love meet. 

102 



Ballade of an Ancient Bi^omide 

What else to say? A lot 

Worse did "the sunbeams light 

With golden shafts the spot" 
Or "flowers their joy recite 
By dancing day and night." 

(Why tire their little feet*?) 
Pity the author's plight 

When spring and first love meet! 

UENVOI 

Oh, once I used to fight, 
Now undismayed I greet 

The old bromidic flight 
When spring and first love meet. 



103 



A RECRUITING STORY 

THE Recruitin' Sergean' he did say, 
"How tall be you?" Says I, "Six-four; 
I know because the other day 

I measured my length upon the floor." 

"Too big," says Sergean' with a sigh, 

"The trench your size ain't yet been foun'." 

"That ain't no hindrance," then says I, 
"Why can't I marry and settle down?" 



104 




HOW IT HAPPENS 

Readers on trains provoke conductors. Bookworms ride 
past their stations, then blame conductors. — News Item, 

O'NEILL has seized her by the 
throat, 
She screams ... to no avail. 
He flings her in the waiting boat, 
And down the stream they sail. 
He gloats, 'You're cooked, my pretty 
one: . . . 
I'm filled with indignation, — 
Not over what O'Neill has done — 
Tve passed my station! 

" 'Your love no thrill in me awakes, 
I'm seeking for romance ; 
105 



How It Happens 

ril never wed a man who makes 

His living pressing pants.' 
He hangs his head and heaves a sigh, 

Then cries in aggravation, 
*You little snob !'"... Conductor, I 

Have passed my station I 

"Midnight. The sky is black as pitch. 

A struggle . . . then some cries, 
And at the bottom of a ditch 

Poor murdered Hector lies. 
Oh, was the culprit's aim to rob. 

Or was the motivation ...*?"... 
Conductor, you^re not on the job, 

Fve passed my station! 



106 



BARRACK DITTY 

'T'HE barrack is cold, the iire is low, 
* Who's gonna get the coal? 
The sky is gray and it looks like snow. 

Who's gonna get the coal"? 
The sergeant says, "Let the corp'ral go," 
The corp'ral heatedly answers, ''No!" 
And so 
The private is chased for the coal. 



107 



JEANNETTE MALONE AND PRIVATE 

GREEN 

(Camp Merritt Song) 

JEANNETTE MALONE picked up the 'phone 
^ To spoon with Private Green, 
A soldier lad who boldly had 
Deceived this little queen. 

To win the lass he tried to pass 

As a lieutenant — so 
When Miss Malone picked up the 'phone 

And whispered soft and low : 

"Put on the wire my heart's desire, 

His name's Lieutenant Green," 
The answer came: "Don't know the name; 

But, lady, if you mean 

"A private, well, I'm glad to tell 

You that I know the sinner; 
But sorry, gal, can't call your pal — 

He's cooking the captain's dinner." 

108 




/fisienut 



EDUCATING ROYALTY 

Yankee teaches duke dice game. Royalty snubs erring 
nobleman. — News Item. 



TPHE Prince of Aramanda is a-shooting craps one 
-■• day 

With Edward Alfred Algernon, the Earl of 
Citronella. 
"Seven to five I roll an eight !" exclaims the Prince 
of A. 
When Adolph, King of All the Realm, a very 
strict old fellah, 
Comes trotting by on Suzerain, his celebrated steed, 
And, jumping off the same, emits a horrified, 

"Indeed!" 

109 



Educating Royalty 

''Forgive usT^ plead the prince and earl^ 

''We know how this must hurt you. 
A Yankee lad with habits had 

And no idea of virtue., 
Taught us the game^ he claims it is 

His country's national sport. 
We'll quit it, though, for gambling's low; 

Don't banish us from court!" 

"Ah, ha! you plead for mercy," cries the angry 

Adolph then. 
"Well, gentlemen, I needn't say I've got you in 

my power. 
And I intend to treat you as I treat all wicked men. 
Oh, Keeper of the Prison, put these villains in 

the Tower I" 
And in the Tower he puts 'em — yet they like it very 

well. 
For no one's there to hear 'em as they roll the bones 

and yell: 

"I'm shooting ten." "All right, I'll fade. 

Say, what's your point?" "i five!" 
"Well, two to one it can't be done! 

Come, roll 'em! Act alive!" 

110 



Educating Royalty 

"A five! I win! Now shoot the roll! 

I win again ^ old scout I 
Yll say thafs neat. If I repeat 

Yll buy the kingdom outT 



III 



SONG OF THE WIDE OPEN PLACES 

{Lament) 

SING me a song of the wide open places, 
Chant me a lay of the road, 
Memories bringing of lovable faces, 

Hovey and Carman — an ode 
Full of the joy of the wandering aimless 

Poets for ages have done, 
Stevenson, Masefield — and some who are fameless. 

Sing it in stanzas that run 
Over the tongue with the grace of a ditty 

Gilbert, in form, might have penned — 
Happy-go-lucky, ecstatic and witty — 

Then, ere your power you spend. 

Sing me a song of the wide open places, 

Chant me a lay of the road — 
Houses, if any, where lager still graces 

Bars in the vanishing mode. 
Hoi for the wide open places where Burton 

Heartens the blistery throat, 

112 



Song of the Wide Open Places 

Phantom cafes where undrawn is the curtain, 

Visions that only a pote 
Sees in his dreams when the summer sun chases 

Joy and a fellow perspires, 
Singing in vain of the wide open places 

In tune with the saddest of lyres. 



"3 



THE BARD WRITES A PRACTICAL RON- 
DEAU AFTER LEAVING THE ARMY 

T is a job when one has spent 
A twelvemonth as an army gent 
To write a poem full of fizz. 

(What gems I used to write to Liz!) 
My muse a change has underwent. 

(My grammar too.) There's quite a dent 
In both. And I shan't rest content 

Until they're mended, though, gee whiz, 
It is a job 

To do a come-back. If my bent 

For o. f. lyric merriment 

Would but return ! My muse has riz 
Against all fluff. It's growing biz- 

Nesslike. Its theme, friend'? (This you scent!) 
It is— a 



114 



BALLADE OF A SORROWFUL SINGER 

AD are my days as ne'er before, 
^ Great is the grief that visits me, 
Mortal has never suffered more, 
My raison d'etre has ceased to be. 
Before I plunge into the sea 

1 offer prayers to Heaven above — 
(May they be granted speedily!) 
'Tis summer and Fm not in love! 

Jimmy has copped an Eleanor, 
Artie a Grace (a pippin, she !) 
Charlie a Sue with tresses d'or^ 
(To gaze at her is to holler ''Whee!") 
Bill has an Edna on his knee, 
Davie, I hear, boasts a "Follies" dove, 
But I alone must sip my tea — 
'Tis summer and Fm not in love! 

I weep for the kissful days of yore 
When I was a lover sorrow-free. 
The days, f'rinst, of the well known war 

115 



Ballade of a Sorrowful Singer 

When D and I sat 'neath a tree^ 

I reading my latest j apery 

In the camp's gay sheet, she thinking of 

Flowers for her bard . . . Return, fair 

D ! 

'Tis summer and I'm not in love ! 

L'ENVOI 

Fm sad as Bill Hohenzollern. Gee, 
I'd welcome a tap from Dempsey's glove; 
This cheerless life I yearn to flee, 
'Tis summer and I'm not in love ! 



116 




BEATEN AT HIS OWN GAME 

Woman is barber shop talker now. Milady, getting her 
hair bobbed, out-talks tonsorial artist. — News Item, 

QCENE: fashionable barber shop. 



o 



Enter milady, who 



Desires to lose her precious crop 

Of tresses. "How-de-do," 
The barber greets her, "Hair-cut, missT' 

"What then — a shave?" says she, 
"Barbers, I've heard, are talky; this 

Is proof enough for me ! 



'Be careful how you bob my hair; 
Remember that, good sir. 
117 



Beaten at His Own Game 

I don't want everyone to stare, 
And say, 'Just look at her!' 

Done right I think it's nice, don't you? 
It makes a maiden chic. 

And anyhow it's something new, 
Let dad and mother kick. 

''Goodness! The scissors tickle so! 

Yes, that is better; thanks. 
Ouch ! I believe you cut me ! No? 

Aren't we women cranks ! 
Brush off those particles, they itch. 

Brush harder! How they cling! 
O that is fine !" . . . As2de fro?n which 

She didn't say a thing I 



118 



THE STORY OF DANNY O'DOONE 

M going to tell you the fanciful tale 
Of Motorman Danny O'Doone, 
Who took out his trolley and journeyed, by golly, 
The distance from here to the moon. 

Some say that he rode to the sun, not the moon, 

Some people contend it was Mars, 
And others declare v/ith a knowing air 

That he landed on one of the stars. 

I even have heard it observed (and by folks 
Whose opinions I've cause to respect) 

That he's journeying still and eternally will, 
Providing his car isn't wrecked. 

There are versions and versions, and mine's not the 
task 
Of this one or that one espousing, 
But of telling the tale of a motorman hale, 
And how he went trolley-carousing. 

119 



The Story of Danny O'Doone 

Oh, Danny O'Doone was the rarest of chaps, 

A gay little dreamer of dreams. 
With a shock of red hair and of blue eyes a pair. 

And a headful of whimsical schemes. 

A passion for travel had Danny, he yearned 

For a chance to envisage the things 
That he'd read of for years, like Arabians, peers, 

The pyramids, ostriches, kings ; 

And mountains all covered with snow at the top, 

And the rivers they tell of in maps; 
And the faraway lands of the tropical bands 

Where the hunter the tiger entraps. 

And a thousand and one other marvelous things 

That only a dreamer can think of. 
And often he'd say, "There is coming a day 

When those wonders I'm going to drink of." 

Each time that he'd ride to the end of the line. 
At the country before him he'd gaze. 

With despair in his eyes, till one morning he cries, 
"A plague on these colorless days!" 

And opens the throttle as wide as she'd go 
Till he's shooting through space like a shell, 

120 



The Story of Danny O'Doone 

And with power divine past the end of the line 
He zips to the tune of this yell: 

"Oh, trolley la la for a wanderer's life ! 

For a life that is merry and free ! 
Who'd laugh and be jolly and chase melancholy, 

Come trolley la la-ing with me !" 

The trolley was empty, excepting for Jim- 
Jim Black the conductor — and he 

Joined Dan in the song, being equally strong 
For a bit of a rollicking spree. 

"Oh, Jimmy," says Dan, "we're escaping the world, 

And all of the problems that vex, 
And we'll have heaps of fun (though it's likely that 
one 

Of these days we'll be breaking our necks.) 

"Don't you think it is fair that this fun we should 
share 

With mortals who peace would secure? 
Philosophical folk who are harassed and broke, 

Let's offer to take on our tour!" 

And they put out a sign: ALL PHILOSOPHERS, 
HEAR! 

121 



The Story of Danny O'Doone 

WE OFFER A PROJECT SUBLIME! 
TO ELYSIUM THE KEY, IN THE FORM OF 



EXCURSION THROUGH TRACKLESS 

TIME! 

And soon there are passengers getting aboard — - 

A poet a-strumming his lyre, 
A butcher, a sailor, a grocer, a tailor, 

A plumber, a hosiery buyer,— 

And others who proved that they'd been through 
the mill, 

And had found this existence too solemn, 
And yearned to embark on a bit of a lark 

Ere gracing the obit, column. 

And soon they are singing, "Oh, trolley la la 

For a life minus worry and fuss ! 
Who'd laugh and be jolly and chase melancholy, 

Come trolley la la-ing with us !" 

And again they are bounding along at a pace 

That is certainly sixty an hour; 
And now they're in Spain or Japan or Lorraine, 

Or skipping past London Tower. 

122 



The Story of Danny O'Doone 

How'd they travel the seas ? At the bottom thereof 
There are cables, dear reader, there are ! 

Which they rode on in bliss — and I might say that 
this 
Was the start of the cable-car! 

They thrived on this life and most corpulent grew; 

Yes, even the skinny and* slight. 
Which proves, as I hear was remarked by a seer, 

That travel is broadening, quite. 

And for ages and ages they sped through the world, 

Till bored with terrestrial things. 
They heavenward pointed and joined the anointed, 

Then weary of angels and wings, 

They hopped to the sun, from the sun to the moon, 

(A wandering crew you'll allow). 
A planet a day was their schedule ; they may 

Be in lands Betelgeusean now! 

And I'm sure they are singing, "Oh, trolley la la 

For a life minus worry and fuss! 

Who'd laugh and be jolly and chase melancholy, 

Come trolley la la-ing with us !" 

123 




emma 



NEW CURE! 

Physical shock cured headache, — ^A^". Y, Sun, 

1\ yi Y head was athrobbing to beat the band, 
^ ^ ^ And feeling aweary and sick, 
I went to the doc and I cried, "Old sock, 

A couple of pellets quick!" 
''Oh, pills are old-fashioned, the method I use 

Is better," the medico spoke. 
And hit me a lick with a hickory stick, 

And I hadn't a pain — till I woke ! 



I called on the Doolins not long ago, 

I'll never forget that day. 
His missus and Pat had a bit of a spat. 

And once, at the height of the fray, 

124 



■^ 



New Cure! 

As the missus hit Pat with a ponderous vase, 
She said, "You are greatly mistaken 

If you think that I do it to hurt you ; I threw it 
A-thinkin' your head might be achin' !" 

Old Perkins was troubled with headaches for 
years, 

His case was a pitiful one; 
His pains would abide though the gentleman 
tried 

Every remedy under the sun. 
But to-day he has nary a pain nor an ache, 

No more has he reason to chafe; 
A neighbor assured me the fellow was cured 

The day he was hit by a safe ! 



125 



A NEW YEAR CARD 

A NOTHER year! Again the din 
-'*■ Of crowds atooting horns of tin, 
Again confetti in the air 
And bells aringing everywhere, 
As once again the months begin. 

Again the jokes — they're growing thin — 
On resolutions not to sin. 

Let's laugh, as though we thought 
them rare, 

Another year! . • • 

Here, friends, acquaintances and kin, — 
A New Year rondeau — and my fin ! 
I know the poem's only fair. 
Next year a good one I'll prepare. 
I'll be a better poet in 

Another year! 



126 



TOMEVILLE ANTHOLOGY 



PUBLISHER'S ANTE-ROOM 

nPHERE'S a fellow outside with a volume of 
"■' pomes, 

(The title, I think, is 'The Beautiful Gnomes'), 
He says it's the best of poetical tomes." 

'Til see him next Christmas," the publisher said. 

"There's a gentleman waiting to tell you about 
A novel of his, which without any doubt 
(So he says), will make critics with happiness 
shout." 
"Oh, tell him I'm ill or in prison — or dead." 

"There's also a lady who's just come away 
From Russia; she says that the Reds are at bay, 
And she's willing to write it at so much a day." 
"I've just left for Portugal, China and Mars." 

"And then there's a bookseller — looks like a gink — 
From somewhere out West; Indiana, I think. 
I'll tell him you're out buying authors a drink." 
"A bookseller? In with liiml Boy, the cigars!''' 

129 



THE PUBLISHER 

OPEAK kindly of the publisher, 
^ Cease aiming jabs and hooks. 
He spends his days devising ways 
Of landing worthy books. 

And granting that he spends his nights 

Coralling lesser writers, 
And stoops at times to make some dimes 

By peddling books by blighters. 

Like Charlie Cheer and Jennie Joy, 

And other slushy Biddies, 
Remember, please, that books like these 

Support the Wife and Kiddies I 

^ blessing on his graying head ! 

Speak gently as he passes. 
Whose job it is (O thankless biz !) 
• To please all shades and classes. 



130 



THE AUTHOR (i) 

(As some readers see him) 

IT'S nice to be an author 
^ And sit and smoke a pipe, 
And nothing do the seasons through 
But type and type and type. 

And have your picture printed 

In papers everywhere, 
And when you pass, hear lad and lass 

Shout, "That's him over there !" 

And daily open letters 

Containing wads of pelf. 
And live on steak. Some day I'll take 

The business up myself. 



131 



THE AUTHOR (2) 

(As he frequently sees himself) 

/V A Y neighbor is a lucky chap, 
^ " ^ His livelihood is plumbing. 
At five clock (O perfect snap I) 

I see him homeward coming. 
His work is done, Fm never through, 

To-night ril ruminate 
Until eleven on what to do 

With Jones in Chapter Eight. 

And then there's Joe, the butcher- 
boy. 

Who lives across the alley, 
And nightly knows the boundless joy 

Of calling on his Sally. 
While Joe, a free man, woos his gal, 

I sit and dope a way 
Of making it seem logical 

For Brown to shoot O'Shea. 

Ah, would that I had had the wit 

To listen to my dad, 
132 



The Author 

Who — (well do I remember it!) — 
Said, "Learn a trade, my lad." 

Ah, then perhaps my work would stop 
At five or six o'clock, 

And rd be free as any cop 
Or tailor on the block. 



133 



THE BEWILDERED MANUSCRIPT 
READER 

/^H, there are many, many times 
^^ When I am puzzled quite. 
Now, here I have a book of rhymes 

That seem to be all right. 
The author is a likely poet, 

Though certain things displease. 
I think I'll hedge. But how? I 
know ! "// 

Has possibilities F ' 

And here's a novel— rather good; 

But is it good enough? 
Search me ! There is a likelihood 

That I shall have to bluff. 
ril say — and what could be politer, 

Or easier to distill, 
Than a report like this: ''The writer 
■ Is not -without some skillF^ 



134 



ORLANDO SCONCE, THE CHILD AUTHOR 

A T eleven Orlando his first volume penned, 
-«*^ Entitled ^'The Growing Karl Marxian Trend^'' 
An opus you'll like from beginning to end, 
It's so brimful of knowledge. 

O wonderful thing ! Here's a slip of a boy 
Who's able the weightiest terms to employ, 
His polysyllabical work you'll enjo'^' 
(If you've been to a college.) 

While other — and less cerebelle-lettred — ^brats 
Are tossing their baseballs and wielding their bats, 
He sits giving Plato or Emerson rats — 
Or indorsing 'em, maybe. 

Orlando's a child I should like to adopt, 
(I'd kidnap the lad, but, alas! I'd be stopped) 
And see that inside of a well he was dropped, 
The scholarly baby! 



135 



TO AN EDITOR 

nPAKE it from me, dear sir, if thou but knew- 
'■ Est with what pious zeal I worship you, 
(I should say "thee," but "thee" and "you" don't 

mate) 
I make so bold as to asseverate 
That stuff of mine thou'dst ne'er again taboo. 

And this affection, sir, is honest, true; 
Aye, true as that the well-known sky is blue 
Or that the thoughts are few in Bryan's pate — • 
Take it from me. . . . 

Most mighty master, I have penned a beau- 

Ti fully rippling rondeau, such as few. 
Except, perhaps, old Austin might create. 
And that thou better understandst how great 

My love for thee I shall permit thee to 
Take it from me I 



136 



TRUE MEMOIRS 

nPHESE memoirs," the notice declares, 
* "Are truthful as memoirs can be; 
The author (V. Racity) swears 

The book from deception is free* 
No coloring here, not a jot; 

No gullery, clever and bold; 
No tricks that the charlatans plot — = 

Aye, only the truth has been told." 

Oh, I am a stickler for truth, 

I frequently tell it, I do; 
It's an excellent habit, forsooth. 

And I venture you practise it, too 
(On occasion). But, oh, in a book 

Beguilement is all I desire. 
And I wear a much happier look 

When the author's a rattling good liar! 



137 



THE POET AROUSED 

TTHE hat that I had bought that very day 
-■• Some villain pilfered while I sat and lunched; 
"Which means the writing of another lay," 
Thought I, as angrily my teeth I crunched. 
And then and there I sat me down to write 
A poem that would buy another hat, 
And, summoning all my poetic might 
(Of which there's plenty, let me tell you that), 
Composed a lyric with a lilting strain 
That Editor Bill Perkins promptly bought. 
Showing that in the poet's desp'rate brain 
His power lies. And ever since I've thought, 
Ah, me ! What gems I'd fashion if by chance 
I lost my overcoat or, say, my pants. 



138 



A CONTEST 

T^EN poets send me verses," said Louise, 

*• "Or is it twenty'? (I've forgotten which.) 
And all these Pegasuspirations please, 
Making it difficult for me to hitch 
My cart to any one of you. The lines you sent 
Last week were sprightly but no better than 
The ones I got from Mills and Scott and Trent. 
The quality's the same. I therefore plan 
A test of quantity. Each man his quills 
Shall keep propelling for a fortnight. He 
Whose verse the largest stack of paper fills 
Shall have my hand in marriage." . . . Woe is me! 
Writing a dozen poems every minute, 
A free verse poet won. I wasn't in it. 



139 



THE LIE IS PASSED 

'\ A Whence comes the myth that poets do not eat? 
^ ' Who manufactured the atrocious lie? 
The fabricator I should like to meet 
And ask the wretch how he can justify 
His statements. Only yesterday I ate. 
This month, not once, but half a dozen times 
In gilded cafeterias Fve sate 
(Oh, there are editors that buy my rhymes). 
Partaking, while the player-piano played 
The latest rag, of food as caloried 
As any man's. O mock not at my trade! 
False is the ancient jest, O false, indeed! 

Why, this was written, yes, this very lay, 

In Max's Busy Bee the other day. 



140 



EPITAPH FOR A DESERVING LADY 

OHE never wrote a book, 
^ She wasn't literary. 
She stayed an honest cook, 
She never wrote a book, 
Contented not to look 

Beyond the culinary. 
She never wrote a book! 

She wasn't literary! 



141 



SONNETS OF A BOOK REVIEWER 



IT UMOROUS essays, by Leander Scott. 
^ ^ Essays at humor one might call 'em too. 
Three hundred drowsy pages, but why not*? 
If sleepy, pleasantly so. My review — 
And this is only fair — shall praise the thing. 
There are two kinds of sleepy books, the ones 
By fourth-rate realists that nightmares bring. 
And those that pleasant sleep induce — ^by sons, 
Innocuous sons, of good old Charlie Lamb, 
Like this Leander Scott. If doze I must. 
Let me doze sweetly; worshipful I am 
Of him who knows that it is only just 

To lull The Gentle Reader painlessly. 

Leander, you are good enough for me! 



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Somiets of a Book Reviewer 



II 

Come for a walk down Melancholy Lane, 
Where someone dies in Squalor every hour. 
Oh, meet the Grand Viziers of Strife and Pain, 
Who write with what is classified as Power. 
I'll introduce you to the dwellers all. 
From Jeremiah Grim, who wrote "The Bum" 
To Mollie Murk whose "Sound the Trumpet Call !" 
Exposes evils in an eastside slum. 
Nothing escapes this gentry wideawake. 
They know that life's no picnic, yes, they do. 
They've just discovered Poverty; they'll make 
Other discoveries before they're through. 
Including this: that novelized despair 
Is bad at PoUyanna. . . . Give me air ! 



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Sonnets of a Book Reviewer 



III 

"Anthology of Modern Verse," compiled 
^By Roger Canto. Roger, you are brave. 
Your guerdon shall be this : by fifty wild 
Unmentioned bards you shall be branded knave, 
(Including me; you might have run a few 
Of my pentameters, they're not so worse.) 
He who anthologizes (job to rue!) 
More trouble gathers than he gathers verse. 
If ever I become anthologist 
I'll mention everybody, good«or bad. 
I shall not take the chance of being hissed. 
Poets are dangerous persons when they're mad. 
"All Comers' Manual of Verse" I'll dub it, 
And though you may, I'm sure the bards won't 
snub it. 



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Sonnets of a Book Reviewer 



IV 



Tell me, O traveler, where have you been^ 
What is the land you write about to-day? 
What island paradise? What fair demesne? 
What tropical Elysium far away? 
Whate'er it be, write on ! Write on, I beg ! 
Tell me about the nose-ringed girls and all, 
Who promenade the forests bare of leg, 
(Showing that styles are universal.) Call 
To mind the natural beauties : streams and hills 
That shame the Occident. And tell of beasts 
That must have chased you and provided thrills. 
Tell of the tribal dances and the priests. 
Tell all, in fact! I am not one to say, 
"Tut! Saw it in the movies t'other day." 



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Sonnets of a Book Reviewer 



"How to Develop Personality," 

By Tad Tobasco, author of "Success," 

"Keep Smiling, Brother I" "Be a Busy Bee," 

And ten or twenty others, more or less. 

A personality, the author tells. 

May be achieved by all. Despair not, then. 

Acquire a snappy hand-shake. That's what sells 

Your wares. Be breezy in your talk with men, 

And never fail to slap 'em on the back. 

Keep your teeth clean and show 'em when you smile. 

(Five minutes' practice daily gives the knack.) 

Stand straight, walk gingerly and dress in style. 

And in no time you'll be a sprightly lad, 

As trig as any in a collar ad. 



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Sonnets of a Book Reviewer 



VI 



Suggestive sexy stun enveloped in 
A mist of mysticism. Little sly 
Approaches to the garbage can. How thin 
This slobber that Bohemians glorify! 
Author, what is your aim? To entertain? 
It can't be that. The stuff is far too dull. 
To teach the unsophisticated brain 
Sex hygiene or eugenics? They might cull 
Some information on these topics if 
You'd be explicit, but you only hint, 
And hinting merely leaves a fetid whiff. 
My guess : you like to play Bad Boy in print, 
You're catering to the natural desire 
Of every little boy to play with fire. 



147 



Sormets of a Book Reviewer 



VII 

Another small-town novel showing that 

The burgher is a poor benighted sort, 

Needful of rescuing. His talk is flat. 

The latest movie, how to cure a wart, 

Or baseball, is his topic. It is time 

We started a crusade to save his soul 

That wallows all these years in lowbrow slime. 

You give him Einstein lessons, I'll cajole 

Him into an appreciation of 

Good poetry. (I'll read him some of mine.) 

All kinds of learning down his throat we'll shove. 

Until he is no longer dull, supine. 
Until he knows as much as you or I 
And people take him for a City Guy. 



148 



mBOBMHOM 



Sonnets of a Book Reviewer 



VIII 

A new detective story, "Dirty Work," 
'By Clarence Clue. A banker, Oscar Tuck, 
One morning dead was found. A bloody dirk 
Was in his gizzard. Someone must have stuck 
It there, is my deduction. Yes, but who? 
Was it the butler James or Tom the cook? 
It's rather difficult to say. I do 
Know this: somebody went and took 
The victim's famous Purple Amethyst. 
It must have been the man who killed him. Sure! 
And who was this assassin? I know. Hist! 
The man who copped the gem ! It's logic pure. 
There's not a mystery, however thick. 
We critics cannot guess — and bloomin' quick! 



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Sonnets of a Book Reviewer 



IX 

I wonder what I'll draw to-day. I hope 

The editor remembers this is spring 

And gives me nothing full of highbrow dope. 

I want a book of pomes with birds a-wing 

And blossoms blossoming and bees a-humming, 

And all the other silly details. I 

Insist not that it be inspired strumming. 

Tunes by a member of the smaller fry 

Will suit me nicely, so they tinkle well. 

Oh, sound is all I'm asking, pleasant sound, 

I'll even stand for rhymes like "bell" and "dell.'* 

(Sweeter the better.) Can the book be found*? 

I thought I saw one like it on the shelf. 

It's gone. ... Ye ed.'s reviewing it himself ! 



150 



ATONEMENT 

(After reading an essay on the nobility of labor) 

/^H, there are buildings waiting to he reared^ 
^^ And there are highways waiting to be laid^ 
And new-built vessels waiting to be steered^ 

And farm tools waiting to be handled — spade 
And hoe and harrow. Oh^ the things that wait 

For eager hands! And here I sit the while. 
Making this tinkly word and that one mate. 

Adding and adding to the pointless pile, 
Stacking up verses till the flooring groans. 

Triolets, villanelles, ballades and odes. 
Light-hearted roundelays and plaintive moans. 

Free verse, rhymed verse — a dozen wagonloads. 

Oh, how atone for wasting all this time? 

No use to go to work, I don't know how, 
(We poets never could get used to grime). 

Yet will I make atonement — here and now. , . . 

Boy, bring the matches! Pile the poems higher! 
We'll fill the city with poetic fire! 

151 



